


Reborn

by ghee (sabakunoghee)



Series: Arthur Fleck; the clown [1]
Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 20:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabakunoghee/pseuds/ghee
Summary: And Arthur decided to give him the best show ever.





	Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed. A character study based on this scene. Picture from a random search on google.

* * *

A lie told more than once could be the _truth_.

Especially, when someone kept on repeating the same lie, over and over, they could eventually believe it was true. Zero hesitation. No refusal. One would never be able to deny their own voice – people needed to speak their mind even though no one wanted to hear them. Arthur Fleck had faith in it.

The freedom of speech, they said. The power to express their viewpoint, they said. Yet, Arthur had no privilege to do so. He never knew what did he do wrong, but people seemed to not listen; either they ignored him on purpose or simply didn’t have the interest to listen to him. His boss fired him by phone. The detectives jumped into their one-sided conclusion. His mother –_ oh_, his dear, sweet mother – who laid on her death bed, Arthur committed his whole life for her. But she gave him no attention either; she was too busy playing with her own twisted mind, fully detached from the reality and sensibility.

His own mother told him lies. Lies, after lies, after lies. And he later found out that she was mentally distorted. He felt betrayed.

_So he set her free,_

Arthur was a happy little boy and he grew up to be nothing but a complicated mess.

“Your turn, in two minutes.”

The backstage crew spoke to him with a disgusted look on his face. He turned around and murmured to his co-worker, obviously disapproved Murray’s decision to bring this maniac on stage – the city outside was burning and he dressed like a clown. How disrespectful a man could be? But Arthur couldn’t care enough. He had his own mission, his own value, his own purpose, if not, he would never accept the tempting offer. The green-haired comedian glanced at the small television far above his head. There was him tried hard to suppress his unwanted laughter, repeatedly broadcasted with a splash of mockery and turned out, _people_ enjoyed it. The fact that the viewers loved to insult wasn’t big news for him.

And Arthur decided to give him the best show ever.

The scariest thing from a man who thought to kill himself was the fact that he had nothing to lose. He didn’t have a family who waited for him to come home. He didn’t have a lover who hugged him in his hardest time. He didn’t have friends to share his sadness. He had nothing – and _nothing_ was too _much_.

“Why do I have to kill myself –

_Why don’t I kill those people who made me feel this way?_”

He learned that the system failed him. Society failed him. Humanity failed him. And if he was a failure, then, who was to blame? The government? The riches? _Hey, Thomas Wayne, fuck you and your fucking castle._ Arthur shut his eyes and listened to the music inside his head. His hands swayed gracefully, synchronized with the slight movement of his feet. He instantly got lost in the maze of his thought – never did he feel this serene before, as he planned to accept himself for who he was in front of the camera. _A murderer._ Or was he? He was accused and received a lot of hatred for killing three people in the subway. At the same time, he was the icon of salvation for those who were unlucky.

Arthur just didn’t know it yet. And he would, _soon_. The dance of his fingers, the swing of his waist, he listened to the sound echoing in the back of his mind. _Can we fix this_? No, they could not. But Arthur knew a solution.

_The anarchy_.

“I am not alone,” he hissed, not to anybody but himself, “_We_ are not alone. There are people like us outside this falsehood, waiting for us to speak, expecting _someone_ to be their icon. Their hero.”

_“Their voice._”

When the spotlight was aimed at him, the comic won. He didn’t laugh at all.

Arthur stepped on the blinding platform with bizarre confidence exploding inside his chest. This was it. That night was _his_. Arthur was about to drag them. Low. Lower. _To the lowest._

As low as where he was.

“Please welcome, _Joker_!”

He was _reborn_.


End file.
